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<title>half-bitter; half-sweet by picketfences (OnyxSphinx)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145391">half-bitter; half-sweet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/picketfences'>picketfences (OnyxSphinx)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>caleb-centric shorts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Turn (TV 2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch Aversion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:16:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/picketfences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Caleb avoids a party, and Ben comforts him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>caleb-centric shorts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>half-bitter; half-sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The wind blows harsh; ruddying his cheeks; and Caleb shivers; briefly considers going back inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the cracks around the windows, noise drifts out; reminding Caleb of the mass of people inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles grimly to himself. For now, he’ll just have to endure the cold. It’s preferable to bring boxed in with so many people, heart thundering in his chest and palms sweating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, he had hardly registered the change in himself, but as time went on, it became more obvious. The scent of salt made him sick; sitting down if there was only one other person in the room made him jumpy; and being in loud spaces with no way to breathe made him—well. Panic. He doesn’t like thinking the word, but it’s true. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lately, he hasn’t been well, and that’s the truth. He’s not sure what to do about it—especially not when he wakes up screaming. It’s gotten bad enough that he has his own tent so he doesn’t bother the other men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s the freak of hinges; a door opening; and warmth and light flood him for a moment. Then, footsteps, and a familiar voice. “Bit cold out here, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb turns; offers up an ingenuine smile. “Well,” he says, “needed a breath of air after being practically assaulted by perfume, didn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a flimsy excuse; and Ben frowns. “You look ready to run,” he observes. “Is this party keeping you from something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs. “Nah.” That, at least, is the truth. And then, in an attempt to divert the topic: “You look mighty fine in that uniform, Benny-boy.” That is true as well; they’ve promoted him to colonel; and the uniform, well-fitted, does wonders to enhance an already stunning physique.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Caleb has been looking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben doesn’t buy it though; steps forward to close the distance between them. “Something’s on your mind,” he says; and then snaps his fingers. “No—something is bothering you. The party—too many people for you, perhaps?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Caleb denies; but it’s too fast, too controlled, and Ben’s face twists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Simcoe still in your head?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The question, asked baldly, catches him off guard; and Caleb stumbles over his words for a moment before replying. “No,” he says, finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a lie; Simcoe haunts him like a damned poltergeist; seeps into every crevice of his mind; has burnt himself permanently under Caleb’s skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steadies himself. “Let’s go back in,” he suggests. “It’s getting cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben watches him for a moment. Finally, he says, “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb leads the way; bracing himself for the multitude of scents and sounds that will hit him in a moment; and barely stumbles over the threshold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben follows behind him; and once they get inside, he sticks by Caleb’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s how, ten minutes later, when Caleb begins to shake—palms sweating and vision blackening at the edges—he finds a hand on his arm; Ben’s voice, distant, in his ear, as he guides him back outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few minutes, Caleb stands; half-wheezing; trying to steady himself. When he finally manages to raise his face from his palms, Ben’s gaze is locked on him. “Why did you lie to me?” he asks; soft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb laughs. “Y’ oughtn’t be considering yourself with me problems, Ben,” he manages; half-hoarse. “It ain’t important—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit.” Ben’s standing ramrod straight, and he stalks over to Caleb; holds his arms; eyes blazing. Caleb flinches; involuntary, and Ben swallows; steps back. “Bullshit,” he says, again, “Caleb, your problems are—you are—of the utmost importance to me, do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caleb thins his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please.” He’s begging, now; tone pleading. “Please understand that, Caleb.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should go back inside,” Caleb deflects. “They’re probably missing you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them,” Ben retorts. “I’m staying here until you feel better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t!” It comes out an ugly half-sob of a thing; and he says, again: “I ain’t going t’ feel better, Tallboy, all right? You can’t just—just wait for me to be fixed. It ain’t going t’ happen, so just—just go back inside. Please.” The last bit is half a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Ben says, again; steadily. “I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. I’m staying with you, either until you feel better, or—or until the party ends and we can go back to camp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben, I can’t ask y’ t’ do that—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not. I’m offering.” Ben hesitates, and then: “I’m not leaving you again, all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches out; pulls the collar of Caleb’s coat up; fingers brushing Caleb’s neck, and his skin burns; pleasantly, this time; a reminder of stolen moments; and Caleb finds himself relaxing minutely. “All right,” he says, finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben smiles. “All right,” he echoes. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can find me at <a href="https://major-721.tumblr.com/">major-721</a> on tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
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